Racheal Nanyonjo
In the changing world of British theatre and performance, some artists do more than just put on a show—they challenge who gets to tell the story in the first place. Rachael Nanyonjo is one of them. A Ugandan-British director, choreographer, and movement director, Rachael uses her craft to ask big questions about truth, power, and legacy and to answer them through the bodies she moves and the stories she brings to life.
For her, movement is more than steps, its memory, subtext, and reclamation. From shows she movement directed like Shebeen (directed by Matthew Xia) , Trouble In Mind (directed by Nancy Medina) Misty (by Arinze Kene ,directed by Omar Elerian) to her acclaimed production Recognition with Talawa Theatre Company, she proves that dance can hold the subtext and heartbeat of stories.
In this conversation, Rachael talks openly about claiming her truth in spaces shaped by privilege, dreaming big, and why sometimes the bravest thing you can do is show up as yourself—unapologetically and completely real.
Let’s start from the beginning—what first drew you into the world of movement and theatre?
My name is Rachel Nanyonjo as you know and I’m a choreographer, director, and leader from South London Croydon, and I’m Ugandan, which is important to say upfront, because anyone from African heritage knows that movement, song, and storytelling is all one thing.
It’s not something you separate; it’s culture, it’s how we live.
When I came to the UK, (I’m the youngest of three), we would watch loads of things on TV and they (siblings) would take me to shows. We'd be watching “making the Video” with Janet Jackson or Britney Spears, or go to Fairfield Halls to see Fame or pantomimes. I was really immersed me in the arts.
The first real spark for me was watching Janet Jackson’s Pleasure Principle video and wondering, “How are they doing this all in one take?” I became obsessed. And then discovering Debbie Allen changed everything. She started as a dancer in Fame, then choreographed the show, then directed it and now she directs everything from Grey’s Anatomy to How to Get Away with Murder. She’s even Mariah Carey’s artistic director! I was fascinated. These women merged movement and storytelling seamlessly. That’s what I wanted to do.
I ended up going to the BRIT School because I didn’t feel at home in my secondary school. I wasn’t using my full potential.
At BRIT, I discovered DV8 Physical Theatre and the work of Lloyd Newson, The Alvin Ailey Dance Company and I became obsessed. That’s when I really found my tribe, the peers I still work with today. It all started there.
Your journey from dance studies to becoming a renowned movement director is inspiring. What pivotal moments or mentors shaped that path?
When your formative years are unstable, it can go either way. For me, I found the thing to hold on to; art, dance and theatre. They helped me cope. It’s not easy migrating young, especially moving from Uganda to the UK, that shift was hard.
There were three major turning points for me. The first was winning the PITCH IT grant alongside Emma Dennis-Edwards. We didn’t know each other then, we just both applied and won. When we met, we instantly connected. Both BRIT School Alumni’s with a sense of humour and serious about making good art.
So I originally wanted to work with a writer to explore devising from a choreographic lens, but my collaborator moved back to Norway. Emma offered to step in, she is super smart, so I said yes and she wrote Two One, a piece inspired by Judith Mackrell’s article on the two-to-one ratio of women in positions of power/ leadership to men. That show was performed at The Place, Camden People’s Theatre, Rich Mix and Tara Arts and was my first breakthrough in theatre. People from the Young Vic, Tamasha, and Soho came. I didn’t even know they were there. They saw something in me I didn’t fully see in myself - that I could choreograph and direct.
The second major moment was becoming a Trailblazer Fellow through ADAD (now part of One Dance UK) in 2015. I was mentored by Emma Gladstone, former Artistic Director of Dance Umbrella. She pushed me to think bigger, to think about where my work sits in the wider landscape. Through her, I met Imogen Knight and ended up working as a movement consultant on Les Blancs at the National Theatre, alongside Sheila Atim. I helped create the physicality for Sheila’s iconic walking circle. That was a big one.
The third moment was being selected for the Old Vic 12 in 2017 -2018 which at that time was run by Tom Wright the current Artistic Director of Leeds Playhouse.
I was ready to leave the industry genuinely. I felt like I was constantly having to prove myself in ways others didn’t; running into brick walls and I felt burnt out. The Old Vic 12 was a turning point, through that program Tom supported, listened and advocated for so many of your theatre favs today.
Georgia Gatti, the producer, sat me down and asked, “What do you want?” No one had ever asked me that before. I listed venues I wanted to work at, areas I felt I needed professional development; within a month or two, I went through a multiple round interview and got a job choreographing Mass by Leonard Bernstein the Opera at the Royal Festival Hall for Jude Kelly.
That piece had over 300 performers. It was terrifying and incredible
Kate Prince mentored me through that, and she was brilliant. She told me, “Stay authentic. You’ll make mistakes, own them, learn, move forward.” She also encouraged me to think long-term; what do I want to make next, and how do I grow?
What I’ve learned is this: the right mentors don’t give you answers. They nudge you toward better questions and towards your next brave decision.
You’ve worked across major institutions like the Young Vic, Kiln and National Theatre. How have those experiences shaped or challenged your artistic identity?
Working across institutions in the UK has really shaped and, at times, challenged my artistic identity. Retrograde was a really rewarding experience. I came on for the transfer as Associate Director, and I don’t think people always understand the responsibility that comes with that title. You're not just shadowing or assisting, you’re holding the piece alongside the director, contributing real, tangible value.
Even though the production had already existed at the Kiln, our version ended up being very different and that required trusting my own voice. I had to remind myself that what I bring is necessary.
Amit Sharma is a great director who makes space and supports creatives and teams to work at their optimum. It was wonderful to be able to support the cast /team within the rehearsal stages, tech/previews etc and then taking care of the show along with our brilliant stage management team during its Westend run.
Then you have spaces like the Bush, where I worked under Daniel Bailey and Lynette Linton. That was different, (it was) special. They built a space where artists could bring their full selves. I worked on Olivier Award winning films - The P Word, My Father’s Fable… and even before that when Madeni Younis ran it I worked on shows like Misty and Babylon Beyond Borders.
At the Bush, I could walk into a rehearsal space and not have to shrink myself.
What I have learnt navigating a variety of institutions and what helps me is to be prepared is to; do the work to know your craft, be kind, ask questions, seek council and support when you need it.
But more than anything (is it to) have an un-shakeable belief in the value you bring to each space
“These experiences have made me sharper, more assertive, more intentional. I walk into rooms now knowing the value I bring and I’m unafraid to lead.”
As a Black woman in the arts, how do you navigate and challenge the industry's representation of Black narratives and creatives?
Oh, that’s like two questions in one! There are so many ways I could go. But let me start here: I want to see more Black women in director and senior leadership positions in artistic cultural organisations.
When organisations genuinely support Black women in these roles fully and wholeheartedly, it creates a ripple effect. Everything shifts: budgets; the makeup of an organisation; how we cast, who we bring into the room etc.
It influences the whole ecosystem.
I also make a point to share opportunities. If a play comes into my inbox and it doesn’t feel right for me, I’ll pass it to a creative person who'd be brilliant for it, that sort of redistribution matters.
And then it's about the stories we tell. Yes, stories are universal but also not - a middle-class Black family is not the same as a middle-class white ones and that in itself is a challenge to the dominant narrative.
And finally, it’s just about showing up as yourself. I used to be quiet when people name-dropped Cambridge or RADA. I’d think, "Oh, I went to Roehampton, I better keep that to myself." Now, I just say, "I can’t relate. I went to Roehampton and the BRIT School proudly" it always throws some people off. But that’s my truth. And when you're unapologetically yourself, people actually respect it more. They want to work with someone real.
In your work, movement is often a form of truth-telling. How do you use it to reclaim or reshape narratives about Black identity?
Movement tells the story beneath the story; it's the subtext. It’s what’s not said. I remember working on Shebeen with Matthew Xia in 2018. It was a Windrush-era story, and we had this character, the uncle who strolls in wearing a flashy suit, swaying his hips, announcing himself before he even speaks.
That physicality, that swagger - it is the narrative. Movement helps us remember. How did people dance in the 1940s and ’50s? How did they carry themselves in all-Black spaces versus mixed spaces? All of that is subtext you can build physically.
I use transitions a lot to layer in historical context or emotion. In Two Trains Running, which I did with Nancy Medina, we used movement to show what was happening in America civil unrest, police brutality without saying a word.
When I reference specific styles of hip-hop, West African, East African it's like embedding history and culture in the choreography. Movement also creates wonder, climax, and world-building. People still come up to me today and say that Misty changed their lives. That’s what movement and great story telling from the whole creative team can do.
“Movement creates wonder. It’s the climax, the world, the memory of a moment. It’s a subtext you can feel.”
How do you nurture emerging Black creatives and ensure the next generation has more space than you had?
I work closely with Talawa Theatre Company. They produced my play Recognition in 2023, a story about the prolific duel heritage composer Samuel Coleridge Taylor who lived in the Victorian era in Croydon which I directed and co-created. I also support their New Writers Programme coming in as a dramaturg and director, helping early-career writers explore form and voice.
Outside of formal programs, I stay connected with places like BRIT School and many youth arts charities/ programmes. If I can’t go back to teach, I’ll make sure they get tickets to my shows. We’ll do Q & As and informal chats. That kind of impact is long-lasting.
I’ll never forget when I was around 17, I worked with DreamArts. Coral Messam (phenomenal movement director) came in to work with us and just said, “Rachael, you lead this section.” That moment changed everything for me. Sometimes it just takes one person seeing you. So I try to be that person. I leave my email open for emerging artists. If I can grab a coffee with someone, I do. But most importantly, I make introductions, especially for backstage roles.
The industry runs on nepotism - if I can be the person who connects someone to the right opportunity, I always will.
Is there a dream project or collaboration that’s been sitting in your heart—something you haven’t had the chance to do yet?
Can Olivier Rousteing at Balmain just let me creative direct, choreograph, and direct a show?!
There are so many plays and projects I would love to make. I don’t know where to start. But I think there are a few artists in East and West Africa who I have my eye on and hope to work with.
I’d also love to collaborate with Es Devlin on set design, or with Lynette Yiadom-Boakye the artist who paints these stunning portraits of Black people, often dancers. She had a Tate exhibition that left me breathless.
And John Batiste! I’d love to work with him. Honestly, the list is long and ever-evolving
How do you see your work evolving in the next few years, especially as you continue moving between theatre, dance, and film?
I’m moving more into directing new writing. But movement and choreography sits at the core of my practice so I hope to continue across genres with movement so I'm still in theatre of course as a movement director for specific shows and films.
A big part of my practice began in the community and teaching so I hope for that to continue and evolve.
What role do you hope to play in shaping the future of Black British theatre?
Legacy and documentation are key. We have the Black Cultural Archives, we have the Black British Theatre Archive but we need to ensure that what we’re doing now doesn’t disappear.
I want the work I’m doing, and what my peers are doing, to be rigorous, well-documented, and available for future generations to reference.
So we’re not starting from scratch each time we’re building. The role I see myself playing is contributing to something lasting.
I am very inspired when I look around and see all the brilliant black artists doing amazing work and pushing the needle forwards artistically, truth telling and celebrating our cultures.
As she looks ahead, Rachael Nanyonjo’s vision stays both grounded and wide open. Rachael’s work is an open invitation to listen better, move differently, and dream bigger.
She’s not just creating powerful performances—she’s helping to shape a future where Black creativity isn’t the exception but the norm.
And if her journey so far is any clue, that future is already in motion, step by step, connection by connection.
